


Somebody Else's Dream

by Para



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: 2016 Yuletide Spark Exchange, Brainwashing, Gen, I can't believe I forgot those are bad things I should warn people about, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Stockholm Syndrome, also sort of Lima syndrome, does it count if that was the goal all along?, what has this fandom done to me, whichever you want to call it really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 11:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9121969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Para/pseuds/Para
Summary: Faustus Heterodyne wants civilians for his newly built town.  What the civilians want is generally different.Giftfic for khilari/iztarshi for the 2016 Girl Genius Yuletide Gift Exchange.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [khilari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/khilari/gifts).



> Alright so _this fic_. Did the usual thing of expanding far beyond my original plan in every direction, which means that 1: there are a bunch of things I'm now headcanoning which didn't make it into the fic but definitely did happen in the much better and longer version of this fic that exists in my head, and 2: this is more or less a first draft, which I apologize for. It is, hopefully, at least an entertaining one. (Also, credit to Asuka for insisting on the last scene.)
> 
> Warnings: minor character deaths, and very not graphically implied injuries that caused said deaths. Also, more angst than I expected. (Also: kidnapping, and brainwashing/Stockholm Syndrome, which I cannot believe I forgot about considering it's _the plot_.)
> 
> Happy holidays to everyone, and to khilari especially!

Petru’s head ached.

“—would hyu bring beck a _baker_? Master Faustus esked for smiths!”

No, Petru decided as the voice continued, not quite yelling, but definitely loud and angry. Not ached. It _hurt_ , a sickening pain that pulsed in time with his heartbeat, which he would swear he could hear, and a sharper pain that seemed to stab in from the side of his head when he tried to lift it. Ow. Petru groaned and set his head back down as carefully as he could.

“Vell, de bread vos verra goot.” The second voice seemed entirely unperturbed. “Hyu vant Hy take heem beck?”

The first voice groaned, exasperated like Petru’s father sometimes was when dealing with the more energetic children in the village. “No, just—go. Somewhere. Else. Und hyu,” the voice added as what sounded like either oddly hard boots or oddly soft hooves clattered away, “is awake und Hy know it. Vot hyu name?”

“Er.” Petru opened one eye. It didn’t make the headache noticeably worse, although he wasn’t sure a worse headache was actually possible. He opened the second. The ceiling was rough wood, with a few lanterns hanging from it. It was probably the headache making them look brighter than daylight. He shut his eyes. “Petru. What, um, happened? And where are we?”

“Vun of hour boys vos en eediot, is vot heppened,” the voice grumbled, irritated. Petru tried to guess where the accent was from, but he’d never heard it before. “Und bring hyu beck instead of a smith or sumting useful. But,” the tone grew more thoughtful, “Hy guess dere iz neffer enough food for dem ennyvay.”

“— _what?_ ” Petru’s eyes opened and he sat up, much too quickly. His head lurched, it felt almost like it was somehow shrinking, or growing, and light flashed behind his eyes. He grabbed for it, leaned forward as he pressed the heel of his hands over his eyes and rested his elbows on his knees. God, let him have misheard, whatever he’d heard….

“…listening?”

It took a moment for Petru to realize that the man who’d been talking to him was waiting for an answer. “Sorry, what?” He opened his eyes and raised his head, much more carefully. There was a pair of legs, only one of them armored. The armor looked a bit worn, dented, and as if it hadn’t been polished in at least a few months.

“Obviously not.” The man sounded irritated again. “Is hyu listening _now_?”

Not armor, Petru realized as the foot tapped impatiently against the unfinished wood floor. The metal was the leg. A metal leg. How—

The normal—so far as Petru could see—foot shoved impatiently at Petru’s knee. “Pay _attention_ , boy.”

“Sorry!” Petru looked up quickly. It made another wave of intense pain surge through his head. He squeezed his eyes shut. “My head hurts.”

“Hy vill tell de jägers to put more effort into restraining themselves,” the man said like it was a concession. “Now, hyu _listen_.”

“Jägers?” Petru opened his eyes to a scowl. “I mean. Sorry. What?”

“Hyu is a Mechanicsburger now,” the man said. “Serve Lord Heterodyne well, make hyuself useful, und efrything vill be great for hyu.”

“ _Heterodyne_?” Petru’s voice hadn’t squeaked that way for at least ten years. He didn’t know what a Mechanicsburger was, but jägers now sounded sickeningly familiar.

“Yes.” The man frowned at him, then leaned down. Petru tried to scramble away, but the man caught his arm easily. He only lifted Petru up to his feet. As Petru was at least a hand taller than the man, that wasn’t very reassuring. “Hyu’ll get used to it. Come on. Hyu family vill help hyu adjust.”

“My _family_?” Petru tried to turn and pull his arm away at the same time. His arm remained firmly in the man’s grip, but he did manage to turn to see the man’s face. “Where are they? Are they hurt? Why are they here?”

“Your _adopted_ family.” The man almost growled.

“My what?”

The man tugged pointedly on Petru’s arm. He still sounded irritated as he started walking. Petru stumbled and followed. “Come along and hyu’ll find out.”

The man said nothing else as he led Petru out the door of the empty, unfinished building they’d been in, onto a street, and through what turned out to be a reasonably sized town. Petru was too busy looking around to say anything.

The buildings all seemed poorly made; the unfinished, splinter-covered wood of the building Petru had woken up in seemed to be typical. Cracks were filled in with tar or mud, or had small sheets of metal or slabs of wood nailed over them. The roads were churned up mud, even though by the look of everything else it hadn’t rained in several days. A large, dark castle loomed over everything from the top of the hill, and skulls and bones provided most of the decoration there was. The people wore a mismatched assortment of clothes in different colors and styles. Most common were simple, unadorned pants or skirt and tunic, made of homespun cloth in every color. The looks they turned on Petru were mixed: dismissal, superiority, or a predatory sort of curiosity. He would have liked to hide, but the man leading him never let go of his arm.

He especially would have liked to hide from the monsters. They didn’t outnumber the humans in the town, but there never seemed to be a moment when one wasn’t in sight. Most had two legs and two arms, and beyond that they might look like anything—any color, skin or leather or scales or fur, at least four types of fangs and six types of claws. Eyes and mouths could be anywhere, and there were usually more than there should be. Hooves, paws, and tails were common; horns were even more so. Most of the monsters wandered through the streets, and a few leapt or climbed over buildings as if they were no more than a fence. Almost all of them grinned when they caught Petru staring. He decided to keep his eyes on his feet after a few blocks.

Petru’s headache had faded to a steadier, slightly more bearable ache by the time the man stopped in front of a door. He didn’t knock. As Petru looked up—it was the same unfinished wood—the man simply pushed the door open. “Domnica!”

“Miron?” a woman’s voice drifted back. “Oh, Miron!”

Footsteps hurried closer, and a woman emerged from a doorway that must lead to another room. Her hair was a mix of brown and gray, and she looked strong. The small axe in her hand did nothing to reassure Petru, even though it looked like it was made for chopping wood. She looked Petru up and down. “Hy vos hopink for a younger boy… bot Hy suppose en older brother for the girls vill be goot too.”

“Children dun know enough to be useful,” the man said as he let go of Petru’s arm and pushed him forward instead. “Und dis one _ekts_ like a child.”

The woman ignored him as she took Petru’s arm with her free hand. “Kom in, is hyu hungry? We gots a bed made op, too, if hyu’s tired—vot hyu name?”

“Uh….” Petru stared as she pulled him into the room.

“He’s Petru. A baker.” The man’s tone was slightly irritated again.

“Ho? Vell mebbe hyu show me how to make goot bread tomorrow,” the woman said as she pushed Petru toward a table with one hand. The table was made of identical rough wood to the house. “Kom on, eat for now.”

“What’s going _on_?” Petru didn’t quite whine. “You’re not my family, where are they—”

The woman pursed her lips, and looked past Petru. “Miron, vod deed hyu—”

“Hyu explain to him, Hy gots others to sort out,” the man said. The door shut.

The woman gave an exasperated huff. “Men. Bot Hy em sure hyu is moch better than most,” she added, seemingly on automatic as she patted Petru’s forearm before steering him toward the table again. “Now hyu sit here, und ve get hyu all fed op und tok about vot is heppening, ya?”

Petru let her push him into a seat. “I—but—okay.” She didn’t seem to be listening anyway.

The woman hurried through the doorway, axe still in hand, calling ahead of her for Iulia to check on the bread. Petru stared after her, then—having realized, just in time, that letting his head let the table would hurt—buried his face in his hands.

The woman—Domnica, she introduced herself, “but you just call me Mama, every boy needs a family”—had three daughters and two sons. Of the boys, Nicolae was fifteen and already in the army, while Stefan was eight, and “playing around town somewhere.” The daughters were introduced as they ate: seventeen-year-old Marica, thirteen-year-old Oana, and ten-year-old Angela. Marica was the talkative one; she explained more about the town than her mother did.

The Heterodynes had decided they didn’t want just an army; they wanted a town to rule over too, and so they built one. But a town needed people, and rather than wait for some of their own children to choose life outside the army, learn trades, and settle down, or simply allowing people to live there, the Heterodyne had decided the fastest way to acquire citizens was to kidnap them. The orders, apparently, had been to look for smiths, apothecaries, butchers, minor sparks and their minions, and other people that the Heterodyne considered useful. “Bot Hy is glad hyu is here,” Marica told Petru. “Hy dun tink ve know vot mekes dis a town und not a camp. Do hyu know sumvun dot is good et buildink houses? Hy know dey is supposed to be sturdier den de tents.”

Petru’s cousin Horia was a carpenter and his other cousin Emil was a stonemason, and the two of them had helped build almost everything new in town in the last fifteen years. Petru shook his head.

Someone—Petru never got any hint about who—had decided that Mechanicsburg’s newly kidnapped citizens would do better if they had families, and from the sound of it almost every family in Mechanicsburg had volunteered to adopt kidnapped civilians. “It was very exciting,” Domnica said. “I’ve always wanted lots of children, so don’t you hurry about moving out again at all.”

“And we don’t even have to wait for you to outgrow the cages first!” Marica added.

“Cages?” Petru echoed, head spinning.

“You know, for children… Stefan just outgrew them a few years ago.”

Petru decided not to ask any more.

They let him go to sleep soon after that, even though the sun was barely starting to set. Marica led him through the door to the kitchen—it was small, crowded, and Petru winced at the wooden counter, almost as splintery as the walls—and through it to another door and a small bedroom, where she left him with an assurance that they’d find a larger bed for him soon.

The bed was small; Petru could fit into it, but not really stretch out. The blankets were scratchy, although warm. He fell asleep despite that, almost as soon as he laid down.

~***~***~***~***~

He woke in predawn gray. His head didn’t hurt—finally—and continued not to when Petru stood up to look around. He hadn’t even bothered to take his boots off, he realized somewhat guiltily when he noticed the now-dry mud on the sheets.

Of course, they’d kidnapped him. That was on a somewhat different level than muddy sheets. Most of the dirt brushed off easily when he tried, anyway.

The room was mostly empty apart from the bed and a window. It was too small for him to crawl through, though a young boy might have managed it. Still, outside was gray and empty; there were just enough hints of light that he could make out the silhouettes of buildings, but no people.

Maybe… maybe Petru could get out. It didn’t look like anyone was stopping him.

The Heterodynes came from the East, he remembered, which meant to get home he would need to go West. Once the sun rose he’d know which way that was. By then people would be awake, but maybe if he left right now….

Petru eased the door to the bedroom open, and peered out. There was no one in the kitchen, and no sign that anyone would be; the fire was still banked, only the dimmest glow hinting at its location.

Petru felt his way through the kitchen as quietly as he could, then the room they’d eaten in. He didn’t see or hear anyone, and carefully let himself out the front door, then turned around to slowly, carefully let it close.

He paused once the door was shut, but still no one appeared, and after a moment Petru sighed in relief. Now he just needed the fastest way out of the town….

…Alright, he had almost no chance of finding the fastest way out of the city, but standing still staring wasn’t it. It looked like the sky was a little bit darker to the right, so Petru turned that way and started down the street.

The town looked a tiny bit more normal in the gray; the unfinished wood was merely silhouettes, and the muddy road certainly wasn’t new, even if the main road had been paved in his town. The total lack of people was still creepy as Petru made his way down one street and then another, trying to move as quickly and silently as he could.

“Hallo!”

Petru shrieked, and tried to jump away from the voice that appeared in his ear. Instead he found himself trapped by an arm that was slung over his shoulders, and pulling him around to face the direction he’d come from.

“Op und looking for hyu shop alreddy, eh, keed? Hyu is vun hard vorker! Bot Hy dun tink ve gots hyu shop built yet.” Petru dared to look at the aggressively cheerful voice, and immediately regretted it. There wasn’t enough light yet for anything to be glistening like those fangs were. “Und hyu mama is gun vorry! So mebbe hyu go home for now, hm?”

“Okay,” Petru managed to squeak out. The fangs gleamed even more as the monster’s grin widened.

“Dot’s de spirit! Hyu is de baker boy, ja?”

“I—um. Yes. But I’m twenty-two,” Petru said. Was the monster’s skin green?

The monster shrugged without removing its arm from Petru’s shoulders. “Und hy is sefenty… hum. Sefenty-eight, Hy tink.” The grin turned into a childishly exaggerated pout. “Und now hyu is meking me feel all old!”

“Sorry!”

The monster laughed as he pulled Petru around a corner. “Dun vorry dot moch, keed! Hy is old.”

Saying nothing, Petru decided, would probably be the best choice. He let the monster keep leading him along the street, and after a moment it started chattering about the buildings they passed. Most seemed to be newly-built smithies, although according to the monster only about half had smiths in them yet.

Domnica emerged from the house as they approached, looking relieved. “Petru! Hyu dun effen eat yet, vere vos hyu?”

“Er—” Domnica’s expression matched Petru’s mother when Petru or one of his brothers had stayed out too late perfectly. It felt suddenly cruel to tell her he’d been trying to escape.

“Vos lookink for hiz shop,” the monster said cheerfully. “Hyu boy iz a verra hard worker.”

“Ho, well.” Domnical sighed, and took a step forward. The monster gave Petru a small shove forward, and Domnica caught him in a hug before he realized what she was planning. Petru froze. “Dot’s goot, bot hyu gots to eat first.”

“Hy dun tink dere is a shop for him yet,” the monster said. “Hyu is gun haff to tell de guys dot is buildink tings.”

“Vell, dis vay he ken tell dem eksactly vot to build,” Domnica said.

“See! Is goot. Hyu chust find de chief minion und he vill get efferyting fixed op for hyu.”

“Ve is gun do dot efter breakfast,” Domnica said. She released Petru from the hug, and began leading him into the house. “Tenk hyu for helpink him, und de advice… sir.”

“Hoy!” The monster sputtered behind them. “Dun call me dot, dey is gun start givink me _work_!”

Domnica was giggling as she shut the door behind her. “Jägers is so easy to tease.”

“Jägers?” Petru echoed. At least he could get an explanation of something.

“De elite,” Domnica said. “Lord Vlad mede de first a century ago, und since den de Heterodynes haff been offerink de change to de verra best of de army.”

Change— “That was a _human_?” Petru asked.

“Feefty years ago, ya. He is not now, und dey dun like if sumvun says dey is human.” Domnica frowned up at Petru, like she was thinking hard. “Dun call ennyvun human dot is not. De pipple dot is important enough dot de masters change dem is proud ov eet, und de jägers is even prouder den most.”

Petru ducked his head automatically. It wasn’t an effective way to hide, and hadn’t been for years; Domnica wasn’t short, but Petru was at least a hand taller than her. “Sorry.”

She patted his arm. “Hyu know now. Now, Hy vill go wake de girls op, und den hyu show me und de girls how to meke better bread, und Hy vill tell hyu all about de jägers.”

Petru gave up. Bread wouldn’t hurt anything, and he wasn’t going to be escaping today. “Okay.”

~***~***~***~***~

The bakery that Mechanicsburg built for Petru was completed within a week, and gave him incredibly mixed feelings. Petru, in the vague hope of being irritating enough to be allowed to leave, had fussed over every detail and demanded every convenient non-necessity he could think of, but instead of irritation the Mechanicsburgers had only gotten more enthusiastic.

When finished the bakery was small, but better made than any other building Petru had seen; there were no cracks in his walls that needed to be filled in with mud or tar. He’d insisted particularly on that, and when one of the men building the bakery had asked how to seal the walls, Petru had said he didn’t know how but was sure they could figure it out. They’d settled on building the walls out of three layers of overlapping boards, which one of the builders had been unnervingly enthusiastic about. Petru didn’t know why Herr Dragos sounded quite so evil when he laughed, and didn’t really want to learn. The floor was wooden too, darker than the walls, and also free of cracks. Everything was sanded smooth; Petru didn’t think he could get a splinter if he tried.

Domnica looked impressed as she explored, although not always at the things that were actually impressive. “Dey is verra nice… boxes,” she said, lifting and replacing the lids of the wooden boxes built along the back wall. The lids fit well, tightly but without sticking no matter which way you turned them. Petru had tested every one of them several times, trying to find a flaw.

“They’re for storage,” Petru explained. “Different types of flour go in the largest ones, see—”

“Vy not chust mix dem?”

Petru winced. “That’s—that’s not really ideal.”

“Hyu mean not ideal dot is gun meke sumvun sick again?”

“Probably not,” Petru said. “But it makes it very difficult to control the taste and texture if you don’t know what flour you’re using.”

Domnica chuckled, set a lid back on its box, and patted Petru’s arm. “Hokay. Und de rest?”

“Oh—sugar—yeast—things like that,” Petru said, pointing to the boxes he’d already decided would be the best place to put them, then to the shelves above the boxes. “And most of the flavors will go there—molasses, herbs, ginger, those sorts of things.”

“Ginger?” Domnica sounded almost shocked by the idea. “In bread?”

“You haven’t had gingerbread before?” Petru stared back at her. Mechanicsburg seemed to have limited ideas about food, and more practice cooking over campfires than in kitchens, but no gingerbread….

“Hy haff never heard of eet.” Domnica ran her hand over a counter, and looked impressed. “De boys mebbe, if dey found sum in sum town….”

No gingerbread. Petru shook his head. “I’ll make some. Er,” he glanced around the empty bakery, “as soon as I have ingredients.”

Domnica laughed. “Hy haff ginger. Hyu ken experiment on os.”

“Okay.” Baking, even if it was just for six people, was the most tolerable part of life in Mechanisburg so far. They didn’t have all the ingredients Petru was used to, so he’d had to figure out some substitutions. It gave him something to focus on.

“Hyu fadder und brudder vill be home today mebbe, so ve is gun meke extra,” Domnica said. She hadn’t taken her coat off, but adjusted it as she spoke. Petru frowned. “Dey eat like five pipple, Hy is certain.” With her coat buttons adjusted to her satisfaction, she reached for Petru and began buttoning his coat closed. “Bot mebbe dey get home tomorrow too, so eet vill haff to keep.”

“My father died,” Petru said.

Domnica looked up, pausing with Petru’s coat halfway buttoned. “Hy’s sorry to hear dot.”

It made Petru angrier. “You can’t _replace him_.”

“Ve dun vant to.”

“You’re trying! You just called him my father—you want me to call you Mama—Marica keeps introducing me as her brother—you’re _not my family_ , my father is _dead_ and my mother probably thinks I’m dead and—”

“Petru,” Domnica said firmly.

Petru stopped, and refused to meet her eyes, staring at the floor to the side instead. He looked sullen, he knew, but he was _right_.

“Hyu ken haff more den vun family,” Domnica said.

That was—well—it might be true, but—

“Ve is not replacink hyu family, Petru. Ve is another family for hyu. Hyu dun gots to call me Mama or call hyu—or call Horia hyu poppa, either.” She started buttoning his coat again. “Bot hyu gots to vear hyu coat, hyu is gun get cold.”

“I’m not going to get cold,” Petru sighed. It had gotten colder in the last week, but even at night there was barely frost, and at noon it wasn’t cold at all.

“Wear hyu coat for me, den,” Domnica said as she finished securing the last button. Petru nodded; there was no point in arguing. “Ken hyu meke enuff bread for fourteen pipple? For if Horia und Nicolae bring friends.”

“Er—maybe.” Petru tried to remember exactly what Domnica had in her kitchen, and how much dough he’d left to rise. “If I made very _fast_ bread… I might need all the flour.”

Domnica nodded, and started out of the bakery. Petru trailed after her. “Hyu ken haff eet, den. De girls und Hy vill meke de rest ov de food, hyu meke as moch as hyu ken und eet vill be goot.”

Horia and Nicolae returned late, in the middle of dinner. While Domnica, Marica, Oana and Angela hurried to get chairs for both of them, Petru did his ineffective best to sink invisibly into his seat.

Stefan ran up to Horia, and was picked up, hugged, and swung in the air. He was still giggling when Horia set him down and spotted Petru.

Horia stared, then strode over to pull Petru out of his chair and wrap him in a hug that made Petru worry for his ribs. “Another son! Domnica, since ven do ve gots more sons?”

“Ho, alvays,” Domnica called back from the kitchen. “Deed hyu forget about hour son, Horia? Shame on hyu.”

“Ha!” Horia released Petru from the hug, and held him at arm’s length. It wasn’t very far; the top of Horia’s head didn’t quite reach Petru’s shoulder. Horia nodded. “Hyu is gun be a goot son. Vot’s hyu name?”

“Um….”

“Petru,” Marica chirped as she moved a chair aside—while Stefan climbed back into it—so Angela could drag another one up to the table. “He bakes bread.”

“Not _just_ bread,” Petru said.

“Ho?” Marica grinned, like a cat that spotted a mouse. “Vot else hyu make?”

“Cakes, waffles, pastries—”

“Make waffles,” Nicolae said.

“Ah—what?”

“Make waffles,” Nicolae repeated. He looked more like thirteen than fifteen, and had turned his head to look at Petru. “Ve hed dem three days ago, dey’s goot, go meke some.”

“Making waffles requires a waffle iron, first—”

“Hyu ken figure sumting out—”

“Don’t argue, boys,” Domnica interrupted. “Nicolae, sit down, try the bread Petru made for you. How did the raid go?”

“Excitink,” Horia said quickly. “Dey hed a madboy—”

“Dot’s not the excitink part,” Nicolae said as he sauntered to a chair and dropped into it.

“Nicolae,” Horia said, in a tone that couldn’t quite manage to be disapproving.

“Is de trooth,” Nicolae said.

“Horia, vot is hyu hidink?” Domnica asked sweetly.

Horia rolled his eyes. “Hyu chust ken’t let a guy haff a fon soprise,” he told Nicolae. Nicolae grinned. “Hokay, eet schtarts vit dis clenk….”

Petru sat back down as Horia began talking, and resumed eating. Horia’s story involved a giant clank that fed on grass and blood—“verra inefficient, Master Faustus sez”—and, when the outside was cracked, spilled out a few dozen smaller clanks that seemed to have been controlling the large one. Horia had been in the middle of the battle—“de best place to be, hyu know”—and Petru wasn’t sure whether he should be worried about the danger or laughing at the absurdity of it all. Who wanted to be in the middle of a gang of attacking clanks?

“Hy vish Hy vos dere,” Nicolae said. Oana nodded emphatically.

Petru shook his head silently. Marica grinned at him.

The smaller clanks had been extremely difficult to destroy, with weapons almost always just bouncing off of them. Horia solved the problem by wedging his sword into a clank’s joint and using it to pry the leg off then, having ruined the sword, using the leg to stab all the other clanks until they were no longer able to attack anything. The report had caught the Heterodyne’s attention, and Horia had been sent back out with a few additional squads to collect the remaining pieces of the clanks so that the Heterodyne could study them.

“Und hyu know vot de best part is?” Nicolae asked.

“Ve’s gonna haff clenks dot ken’t be killed soon too!” Stefan guessed.

“Vell, mebbe dot too,” Nicolae said.

“Boys,” Horia said, but he sounded more excited than disapproving.

“Chust tell os de point, sveethot, before Nicolae sez for hyu,” Domnica said.

“Vell, novun attacked os on de vay beck,” Horia said. “So ve come in vit all dese torn-op clenks, und teke dem right to de minions to sort dem, bot ven ve get dere, de Master is dere too.”

“Deed he fix vun so hyu could fight eet again?” Oana asked.

“No,” Horia said. “Bot he vants to see vy dere is so meny holes in dem ven dey is hard to stab, so Hy pry off a leg und stab vun for him, und he is hummink de whole time.” Horia grinned wide, so all his teeth showed. “Und den, he esks if Hy vant de jägertroth.”

Oana shrieked. Petru almost asked if she was hurt, but she was out of her chair and running around to hug Horia. Nicolae was grinning, Marica had clapped her hands together, and Domnica looked surprised and proud. Angela was bouncing in her chair, and Stefan was quickly clambering out of his. He ducked under the table and, Petru guessed, went to hug Horia’s leg, since he didn’t reappear and one of Horia’s hands dropped beneath the table.

“Hy thot hyu vos getting too old for dot!” Domnica sounded almost giddy. “Hy guess not. Ven is dot?”

“Next veek,” Horia said. “On Monday et sunset.”

“Chust enuff time to prepare, den,” Domnica decided. “Deed hyu bring beck flour?”

Horia’s eyebrows rose. “Hy tink so.”

“Goot, goot. Petru, ve is gun vant lots of cakes on Wednesday,” Domnica said. “Hyu gots time for dot? Und mebbe vun tomorrow?”

Petru nodded cautiously. “I can do that.”

“Goot.” Domnica’s smile broke into a full grin, and with an air of giving in she also stood up to hug Horia. Marica, Nicolae and Angela seemed to take it as a signal, and followed.

Petru stayed in his seat. He wanted to ask if the Heterodyne asking whether Horia wanted the jägertroth was a real offer, since Horia had talked as if he’d do it without ever mentioning agreeing to it. He wanted to ask why anyone would agree to be a monster, and who would want a monster for family.

But apparently Domnica and Marica and Nicolae and Oana and Angela and Stefan did, and Petru didn’t want to ask questions he knew would be offensive when everyone was so obviously happy. He said “congratulations,” just loud enough for Horia to hear and grin at him.

~***~***~***~***~

When Petru got home in the evening, carefully carrying the cake he’d almost finished making—it still needed frosting, but Domnica would worry if he didn’t get home soon—there was yelling coming from inside.

Petru stopped, eyebrows up, and stared at the door. He couldn’t make out the words, but someone—a girl, he thought—sounded very upset. After a few seconds Petru shrugged, and kicked the door lightly since his hands were full. When there was no response he kicked it harder, a few more times.

The yelling cut off, and Domnica opened the door, looking annoyed. She brightened when she saw Petru, and opened the door wider. “Petru! Kom, hyu sister is here.”

“She is?” The voice hadn’t sounded like Marica or Oana, and was too old to be Angela. He stepped carefully over the threshold before looking around.

A girl he’d never seen before was standing in the middle of the room, dress muddy and slightly torn, feet bare, hands balled up into fists, and face red. She looked about sixteen and glared like she was about to try clawing his throat open with her fingernails. Petru stared for a few seconds before realizing what must have happened. “Oh, they kidnapped you too?”

“Yes! And if you don’t take me back home _right now_ I—wait, _you_ were kidnapped?”

“A week ago,” Petru said. Domnica sighed.

“Oh.” The girl frowned at him, but didn’t look angry anymore. “I guess you can’t take me home, then.”

“Sorry,” Petru said.

“Why do you have a cake?”

“We’re celebrating… something.” Petru shifted from one foot to the other.

“Kidnapping people?”

Petru considered. He was pretty sure Horia’s clank story had nothing to do with kidnapping anyone, apart from being part of the same army. “I don’t think so.”

“Ve’s celebratink dot my husband is gun be a jäger,” Domnica said.

“Jägers are stupid,” the girl snapped. “That’s a stupid thing to celebrate.”

“What’s your name?” Petru asked loudly.

“Nadia.” She glared at Domnica as if waiting for a reaction, but Domnica only frowned at her.

“I’m Petru.”

“Nice to meet you,” Nadia said in a tone that implied she couldn’t have cared less if she tried.

“Do you know how to make cinnamon icing?”

“Ye—cinnamon?” Nadia blinked. “Yeah, why?”

“Oh, good.” Petru tried to sound relieved. “I don’t think anyone else in this place can.”

“It’s _easy_ ,” Nadia scoffed.

“Great.” Petru started for the kitchen. “Can you help me with it?”

“But it’s _easy_ ,” Nadia said. “I need to _escape_.”

“I don’t think you’ll succeed, especially since you just announced you plan to,” Petru said. When he glanced back Nadia looked annoyed, but she was following. “And since it’s easy it won’t take long.”

“Fine,” Nadia grumbled. “Since you can’t do something _really easy_.”

~***~***~***~***~

Nadia vanished after she helped with the frosting, but a soldier brought her back halfway through dinner, visibly trying not to laugh. Nadia stomped through the door, snapped “next time I’ll break your nose!” at the soldier, and threw herself into the chair Domnica had stood up from when the door opened.

“Tenk hyu for helpink her,” Domnica said.

“Mine pleasure,” the soldier said, face still unnaturally straight. “Hy is gun go now und not interrupt hyu dinner.”

“Ve appreciate it,” Domnica said. Petru was almost certain he could hear the soldier laughing as soon as the door closed.

Domnica looked over Nadia, and sighed. “Dot dress is ruined, Hy tink.”

“It was already ruined,” Nadia said, took a roll Domnica hadn’t gotten to yet, and bit into it with a challenging expression.

Domnica sat next to her in the chair that had been meant for Nadia, and began serving herself again. “Ve is gun get hyu a new vun, ov cawse, bot Hy dun tink dere vill be time to finish ontil next veek.”

“Hy ken get mine old dress after dinner,” Marica said. “Is gun be a leedle big, bot ve ken fix dot fast.”

“I don’t want your old dress!” Nadia snapped.

“Ve vill get hyu a new vun as soon as ve ken,” Domnica said. “For now, eat so ve ken get to de cake.”

Nadia glared at the roll she was holding. “Did you poison it?”

“I’m _sure_ I wasn’t this much trouble,” Petru said. Nadia glared at him.

Domnica chuckled and reached over to pat Petru’s hand. “No, hyu is verra goot.”

“I don’t want to be good,” Nadia snapped. “I want to go home.”

“Eat, Nadia,” Horia said firmly. She glared, but took another bite of the roll.

There was a moment of silence before Nicolae said, “Hy bet poppa’s gonna be green.”

Marica scoffed. “Dot’s too easy.”

“Green?” Petru asked.

“After de troth,” Nicolae said.

“Almost all jägers is green,” Marica said. “Dot’s too obvious.”

“Not _dot_ meny,” Nicolae said. “Mebbe six in ten.”

“Is still vay too easy bet,” Oana said. “Hy bet pink.”

“Vy pink?” Horia sounded amused.

“Hy like pink.”

“Hy bet orange,” Marica said.

“Because you like orange?” Petru asked. Nothing she wore was orange.

“Hy like sayink orange, so Hy is gun bet orange.”

“Hokay, Hy bet blue,” Nicolae said.

“Purple,” Domnica said. “Vot about hyu, Petru?”

Petru shrugged. “What are we betting?”

“A copper from each ov os,” Marica said. “Mostly hyu gets to be verra smug ontil de next bet.”

“I bet he dies,” Nadia muttered. Oana gasped.

Domnica sounded horrified. “Nadia!”

Nadia turned to Domnica, looking as startled as Petru felt. “What?”

“Hyu dun say dot—if a jäger tinks about dyink too much, den he vill die,” Domnica said. “Hyu ken’t effer remind dem, _especially_ not before de troth.”

“Oh.” Nadia looked guilty and resentful at the same time.

“Is only de vun time,” Horia said after a few seconds. “Und Hy haff not been tinking about dying. Is not gun matter dis time.”

Domnica took a deep breath. “Vell. Ov cawse not. Hyu gots nottink to vorry about.”

Everyone still looked worried. Petru coughed, louder than he meant to, and got everyone’s eyes on him. “I can still bet on yellow, right?”

“Yah.” Marica seized on the topic. “So pink, orange, blue, purple und yellow—hyu dun get to bet dis time, poppa, vot if hyu gets to pick?” She jumped up from her seat. “Hy is gun get paper und write dis down.”

“Ve’s not gun forget,” Nicolae complained, but Marica was already gone.

By the time the cake was finished, Marica had covered her piece of paper in lists of bets; over Horia’s skin color, hair color, whether he’d have skin or fur or scales or something else, his eyes, his ears, whether he’d have a tail and what kind. Petru picked his choices at random, while Nicolae tried to convince Marica to let him bet that Horia would grow fangs and Angela tried to convince Domnica that she was old enough to bet at all. Nadia stayed quiet.

~***~***~***~***~

When Petru woke up the next morning, he found Nadia looking sullen, being escorted back through the door by a jäger. The jäger seemed amused by the whole thing, and claimed that Nadia had been helping to test the walls. Nadia stomped her still-bare foot on his toes, but got no reaction. Petru sighed.

When Petru got home that evening Domnica looked frustrated, and quickly pulled him into the kitchen. “De soldiers haff brought her beck _three times_ today. Ken hyu take her to de bakery vit hyu tomorrow?”

“I don’t think the bakery will be any harder for her to walk out of,” Petru said.

“She likes hyu,” Domnica said. “Hy tink if she is vit hyu, mebbe she is not gun try to leave.”

Petru sighed. It was worth trying, he supposed. He could show her how to bake, maybe, and keep her busy. “Hokay. Can Marica come too? Or Oana?”

“Mebbe. Vy?”

“It won’t be much harder to teach both of them at once, and it would be nice to have someone else to help with the bakery and watching Nadia.”

“Dey ken all go,” Domnica decided. “Hy ken manage de house, hy tink, und ve need more bakers.”

Petru wasn’t sure he was good enough to train apprentices, but saying that would only encourage Mechanicsburg to kidnap someone who was. The main goal was to keep Nadia busy, anyway. “Thank you.”

The plan worked, more or less. Nadia still got hauled back to the house by jägers most mornings and almost every evening, but only rarely tried to escape during the day. Petru supposed that was a sort of success.

~***~***~***~***~

Marica, Nadia and Oana didn’t know much, but they were still helpful when Wednesday arrived and it was time to bake as many cakes as possible. The jägertroth, it turned out, took place in the Castle that loomed over the town, where no one else could see, but it resulted in what amounted to a city-wide festival anyway. The town assembled to cheer as the men that were going to take the troth—not only Horia, but at least twenty others—walked into the castle, and the gates shut behind them with a boom that seemed to echo.

Tuesday was full of almost hectic energy; people hurried from place to place with bright grins and called slightly-too-loud and cheery greetings to each other. On Wednesday Petru began baking just after dawn and kept the bakery closed, so however much energy people were feeling, he didn’t see it.

Marica and Oana certainly seemed to feel the energy, though; if anything, they seemed more energetic than the day before. Petru didn’t worry about it too much; if they mixed things slightly faster than they would have otherwise, it would only help.

Domnica had said that the cakes would be needed when the jägers emerged from the Castle, and that no one was sure exactly when that would be. She claimed that late afternoon on Wednesday was the earliest they were likely to appear, so Petru baked cakes until the middle of the afternoon, and used the rest of the time to frost and decorate the ones that needed it. He showed Marica, Nadia and Oana how to do that too; Oana’s were fairly neat, but Marica and Nadia seemed not to have worried about anything beyond applying icing to the cakes as quickly as possible.

Well, they were edible, and from what he knew of Mechanicsburg no one was likely to care about anything else. And Petru could always point to the difference if anyone asked him what the point was of having a baker when they already had women in town again.

Once the cakes were done they had to carry them to the square that the festival would take place in. Petru had worried about that—even with four people, it would take several trips, which would take time—but Marica simply stepped out the front door, and yelled for anyone nearby to come carry a cake. That made Petru worry about someone dropping one, but no one did, and the cakes were safely stored in an apparently empty building at the edge of the square. The only thing in the square itself was several large piles of wood. Petru considered the size of the bonfires they looked ready to become, and decided not to think about it. Mechanicsburg was fond of macabre decoration; fires large enough to eat a person were probably to be expected.

~***~***~***~***~

By the time the jägers emerged from the Castle it was nearly midnight. Torches lit the road between the town and the square, casting everything in red and orange flickers that the decorative skulls Petru had nearly forgotten about leered out of. Humans and constructs alike were wearing their best: still an assortment of mismatched styles, but richly colorful. Jewelry was more than abundant; everyone Petru saw was wearing several pieces of gem-studded gold in one form or another. Even Petru and Nadia were; Nicolae had found a few rings and bracelets of Horia’s for Petru, and Domnica had found several of her own bracelets that Nadia was willing to wear.

The entire town was milling along the streets between the Castle and the square, and buzzing with conversation. It was quieter than earlier in the day, but the same too-cheerful tone seemed to be in every conversation. Domnica, Marica, Nicolae, Oana, Andrea, and Stefan seemed full of distracted energy, flitting from topic to topic and unable to stay still for long.

The boom of the Castle doors against its walls silenced the crowd; the people who had been in the streets scattered to either side, and a hush fell.

As soon as the first jager emerged from the Castle, stumbling almost like he was drunk, a cheer started. The next jäger was almost as uncoordinated as the first, but the rest walked normally, if much slower and more quietly than Petru was used to. Several of them were carrying large bundles in their arms which Petru couldn’t make out at first in the torchlight. More food? There was a bit of fabric there, a bit of white on another, a gleam of green skin.

Oh.

Bodies.

Domnica had implied that jägers died sometimes, hadn’t she? And there were all those person-sized piles of wood. Petru shivered. She hadn’t said how many, this was—a lot. He didn’t want to count. How many men had walked in there?

Nadia’s hand found Petru’s. He squeezed it.

The crowd was still cheering, and got louder as the line of jägers ended. Two at the end carried their own torches, positioned perfectly to illuminate a human face, and the loudest cheer followed the Heterodyne down the street.

Once the Heterodyne had passed the cheer died down, and the crowd fell into the street, following behind him. Petru went with them, keeping a hold of Nadia’s hand and listening to the quiet chatter that started back up.

“Two alive—”

“—was hoping for three.”

“Not bad.”

“—legs? Should be fast—”

“Did they all die?” Nadia whispered.

Petru tried to keep his voice low so no one else would hear. “Most of them.”

“They’re _crazy_.”

Petru shrugged. He didn’t have a better explanation.

The wood piles were pyres; when Petru reached the square, the last bodies were being settled onto the pyres on the far side. Two jägers sat inside the circle of fires, and the rest clustered in twos and fours in a ring just outside them. Everyone else stayed a pace or two back from the jägers.

Once the last bodies were placed the Heterodyne took a torch from one of the jägers near him, and began walking around the circle, lighting each pyre. The fires burned oddly hot; the flames were white as often as yellow, and Petru could feel the heat on his face.

They still took a long time to burn. The crowd wasn’t entirely still; there were whispers, low conversations, the occasional person slowly weaving through the crowd in search of someone. But it was quiet, solemn in a way that nothing else in Mechanicsburg seemed to be. Even Nadia watched silently.

As the fires died down to embers no one moved, and Petru started to shift from foot to foot, wondering how long they were going to stand there. One of the pyres had almost burned out entirely already; there were only three embers Petru was sure were still glowing in it, and one faint enough he wasn’t sure if it was an ember or just his imagination. The rest were a bit brighter, but still no more than embers.

Stones grated against each other suddenly, loudly, and Petru jumped. The embers vanished like the ground had swallowed them, and a moment later the grating stopped.

The crowd shifted, started moving; people at the outside edges started peeling off and moving toward the buildings at the edge of the square, while others moved toward the jägers. Petru looked around; Domnica shouldn’t be far away.

“There.” Nadia pointed. Marica and Nicolae must have wandered off, but Domnica was close, talking to a woman Petru didn’t recognize.

It took a minute to get past all the people in between, but when they did Petru could see that Domnica’s face was calm, and her tone matched. “…de buildings, bot Hy dun know which.”

“Domnica?” Petru wasn’t entirely sure he’d be heard, but the chatter that had started up must have still been quiet enough, because Domnica turned to look at him.

She looked relieved for an instant before she smiled. “Petru! Here—dis is Elena, she needs hyu cakes.”

“De tables is chust about set op, so ve is ready to put food on dem,” Elena said. “Und since dere is lots ov cakes dey gots to be spread out, so dey gots to go on early.”

“They’re in….” Petru turned on his heel slowly, looking around. More torches were appearing, and at least one small bonfire, but not enough to see well yet. “I’ll need to get closer to recognize the building, but I can show you where.”

“Dot’s plenty,” Elena said. She patted Domnica’s arm. “Hyu go on den, hyu boy is all de help Hy need.”

Domnica nodded, calm expression back in place. She hugged Nadia quickly, before the girl could protest, then hugged Petru. “Hy vill see hyu both later. Haff fon at de party.”

“Party?” Nadia echoed. “People _died_.”

“Dey became jägers,” Elena said firmly. “Ve all die someday. Becoming a jäger is a better reason den most. Now, vere is de cakes?”

More torches were lit as Petru followed Elena to the edges of the square, and then some sort of lantern, bright enough it made Petru squint. It made identifying the building easy though, and the cakes were carried out to the tables with minimal confusion and no actual problems. Nadia disappeared at some point in the confusion, but Petru wasn’t terribly worried; she hadn’t gotten past the walls before, and he didn’t think she would soon.

Petru helped carry out other food after the cakes: meat, bread, and a number of dishes that he was told contained snails, crickets and caterpillars, and paid careful attention to remembering so he could avoid them. After that everyone seemed to be drifting or flitting around; more bonfires had been started, and people wandered between fires and lantern light and conversations, played games, ate and drank, played instruments if they felt like it and danced in the middle of the square if someone was playing. A few scuffles broke out, but failed to disturb anything; the nearest people moved out of range or made casual bets with no stakes, and the rest ignored it.

It felt dreamlike, as if the night would never end. Petru let himself be drawn into conversations he only half understood, and card games that he often suspected were being made up as they were played. Marica wandered into the game he was playing once, and then back out a few rounds later, passing her hand to an old woman who proceeded to win the next five rounds.

It might have been half of an hour or it might have been four hours later when Petru found Domnica. She was sitting at one of the relatively few tables not covered by food or drinks, gazing out over the bonfires and dancers. Petru hesitated, then sat at the table beside her, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

Domnica broke the silence after a few minutes. “De new jägers dot is still alive is Sergiu und Vlad.”

“Oh.” Petru said. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, gaze fixed on the bonfires. “It is en honor to be a jäger, und Horia alvays wanted it. Und it is best to die in service of de Heterodyne. Dere is nottink to be sorry about.”

Petru frowned, and turned to look out at the bonfires as well. Silhouettes wandered and danced in front of them. “Can’t I be sorry for you?”

It sounded teary, but Domnica laughed. “Dere is hundreds of vays to die, und he vos gettink old. Ve vill manage, und if he vos not a jäger he might haff died in de next raid ennyvay. Dis vay is better.” She was silent for a moment, then added, “bot Hy vill miss him,” like a confession.

She was right; Horia might have had a long life if he’d retired from fighting, but Petru didn’t think he would have. “I wish I’d gotten to know him. He seemed… nice.”

Domnica laughed again. “Ho, he vould pout if he heard dot! Bot hyu is right, he vos. Hy ken tell hyu stories, sumtime. His squad too, dey knows sum Hy dun remember, if hyu ken get dem off de battlefield to tell hyu.”

“Maybe I’ll bribe dem,” Petru said. He hadn’t seen any cake left on the tables for a while. “I’ll only make cakes if dey tell stories.”

“Dot vill vork verra well,” Domnica said. “Nicolae knows dem, he ken help hyu find dem tomorrow.”

“Yah,” Petru said. It was getting predictable, the way food could bribe anyone in Mechanicsburg. “Hy’ll do dot.”

~***~***~***~***~

“Halloooo!”

Petru jumped, and barely managed not to hit his hand on the inside of the oven. He closed his eyes, sighed, and then carefully took the bread out of the oven and placed each loaf on a rack to cool as slowly as he could.

Nadia was impatient when he got to the counter, ears and whiskers twitching. Petru smiled pleasantly. “Hyu aren’t scratchink de floor, are hyu?”

Nadia’s skin flushed from blue to green and she stamped a webbed foot. “Hy is not!”

“Hokay, Hy appreciate dot,” Petru said. “Vot did hyu vant?”

“Ooh.” Nadia tilted her head back and turned slowly in place, eyes wide as she pointed. “Dot, und dot, und two of dose, und….”

“Hy’ll pick for hyu,” Petru said.

“Hokay,” Nadia agreed. “Bot Hy vant de gingerbread, meke sure hyu gots vun of dose, mebbe two, und de leedle chocolate cakes, und….”

Petru sighed and ignored her. She’d eat whatever he gave her, be back tomorrow claiming to be dying of starvation anyway, and probably trip on her way out.

“Eight copper,” Petru said once everything was wrapped and ready for Nadia.

Nadia stopped demanding he include everything edible in sight, widened her eyes, and blinked at him. Petru had almost gotten used to the way her eyelids slid sideways. “Ho, dun hyu know? Jägers gets all hour food free.”

Petru stared, then groaned. “Dot joke vos old _ten years ago_.”

“Is de trooth!”

“Hy fell for dot _vunce_.”

Nadia grinned brightly. “Den hyu ken do it again!”

“If hyu dun stop Hy vill giff Vasile a cake for effery time he drops hyu in de rain barrel for de next veek.”

“Vot? Cheatink!” Nadia protested.

At the same time, a green face appeared upside down at the top of Petru’s doorway. “Hokay!”

“Hy schtopped!”

Vasile dropped down into the doorway. “Droppink hyu in de rain barrel is fonny even vit no cakes!”

Petru sighed.

“Hy vill drop _hyu_ in de rain barrel und den hyu vill haff wet fur!”

“Ha! Hyu isn’t strong enuff to pick me op for dot!”

Nadia shrieked with rage, and pounced. Petru groaned, picked up a bucket, and stepped around them to the door.

Three minutes later he had a wet floor and two wet jägers laying on the floor and whining at him, but nothing had been broken, so Petru decided it was a success. “Is hyu visitink tomorrow?”

“Eh?” Nadia let go of the spot where the bucket had bounced off of her head and blinked up at Petru, looking bewildered. “Hy dunno, vy tomorrow?”

“Becawse,” Petru said slowly, “tomorrow is Horia’s birthday. He iz turnink seven und would verra moch like to see his aunt Nadia.”

“Dot’s _tomorrow_?” Nadia paused. “Hyu keed is _how_ old?”

“My _oldest_ keed,” Petru said. “Dere is three.”

“Dun vorry,” Vasile said. “De babies is always eediots for de first decade.”

Nadia shrieked and lunged for Vasile again. Petru picked the bucket up and threw it at both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanons!
> 
> First, that whole "if you mention death to a jäger it'll kill them" thing is 100% superstition. It seems like the sort of thing people would form superstitions over.
> 
> The issue Mechanicsburg has with cooking isn't that they can't cook, it's that their entire history is as a nomadic(ish?) army and support for that army. Mechanicsburg women are as a rule pretty great at making large quantities of edible food from limited and/or strange ingredients, but not so good at fancy baking in a kitchen that requires exact ingredients and precise temperatures and timing. So that's what's going on there. (This probably also explains the bugs.)
> 
> At some point shortly after Horia (senior) dies young jäger Gkika wanders into Petru's bakery. She's been a jäger for I don't know, 10-20 years at this point, and is every bit as much a headstrong idiot as she sighs about in canon. She tells Petru that jägers get their food free, because if she can _trick_ him that makes it a battle of wits and that means she legitimately defeated him and won the food, right? And anyone who's between her and food is an enemy, right? Right. Petru, having zero interest in arguing with a jäger ever, says okay, here you go, by the way I don't think we've met, can I ask what your name is? And naturally Gkika tells him.
> 
> Then Petru went home and asked whether "jägers get free food" was true, and Domnica said no, and then dragged him along to tell the story to Zog who, poor jäger, is already a General at this point. Zog sighed, Gkika got yelled at and told to go pay for her food, Gkika sulked.
> 
> Partly as a result of this and partly just because jägers like food, a bunch of jägers stared wandering past Petru's bakery, wandering in and out, challenging him, and so on. Petru insisted that challenging him to a fistfight was pointless, because the point of a fight is that it's supposed to be a _contest_ and a jäger vs. Petru fistfight is no context. Instead they should challenge him at something he was good at, because they could always learn it, right?
> 
> And that's how about 30 jägers spent a decade or so trying to learn how to bake the best gingerbread so that they could defeat Petru's gingerbread and win free food. Petru took pity on them and also the poor abused ingredients and gave them lessons eventually. Gkika may or may not have been one of them.
> 
> Also at some point fairly early on, Petru, Nadia and Marica (and maybe Oana) are walking to or from the bakery when a guy comes up and starts hitting on Marica. Marica is not impressed. Petru tries to be a protective big brother and scare the guy off, but the guy is a soldier and more likely to beat Petru up than be scared off by him, so he just threatens Petru.
> 
> Marica had been basically ignoring him, but at that point switches to "that's MY brother" and punches the guy. Petru is left feeling slightly redundant. Nadia thinks this was the _coolest thing ever_ and wants to learn.
> 
> Nadia, now, continued her escape attempts. Usually she'd make at least one attempt every day, and be caught and dragged home sulking, so on and so forth, daily life in Mechanicsburg. It's sort of a game really, as far as the jagers and soldiers that regularly catch her are concerned. Until eventually after a few years she just sort of disappears one night. There is Concern, and there is a Search, and no one finds anything. Very mysterious, how did she do that, probably there are some extra detailed inspections of the walls, but no answers.
> 
> The jägers, for their part, think Nadia is hilarious, so they find nothing. Oh, that new boy who showed up out of nowhere and joined the army? Never seen him before, no idea who he is. Ho yez definitely dot is a boy, no question, vy would hyu even ask?
> 
> Nadia spends her time in the Heterodyne army telling herself that it's all a plan to get outside the walls and now that she's done that she is definitely going to run away and escape any time now. It's just, you know, there are worse consequences to being caught escaping than being dragged home now, so she's waiting for a good opportunity. The right opportunity. The perfect opportunity. Yes. It'll happen any day now. That whole eagerly accepting the offer to become a jäger thing is just cover so no one will suspect her and she will get better opportunities. Right.
> 
> Petru, meanwhile, woke up one day ten years later with a wife and kids and realized that, huh, he's a bit settled in here, he might not be going home after all. I don't know how these two are so good at denial but they are definitely siblings.


End file.
